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Since Haru had the ability to think, Maeno had been with him. Subconsciously, maybe, but above all, Maeno had been with him. The burning memory of his hands clutched around Natsu’s body, blood gushing from her paling form had been seared into the back of his brain. Even now, he can still imagine it. Haru can still imagine his face smushed against the glass, leaning against it so eagerly that his breath fogs up the window. He can still imagine the acrid scent of blood and the tears falling from Maeno’s eyes soaking into the blue-haired girl’s crimson-stained dress.
When Haru had first become an inpatient at something they proposed as a psych ward, Maeno had been with him. He was guided down several flights of stairs to a cold and empty room. Multiple beds lined the furthest wall, yet he was the only person in there. He spent his time writing down his thoughts, reminiscing on old killings, and yearning for something more— Something that this place would never give him. Maybe it was counterintuitive to long for something he could never quite grasp his hands around. But the mere idea of obtaining it was pleasant, even if it was a wish that could never be granted.
When Haru sat down with his hands folded neatly in his lap, Maeno had been there, right across from him. With the way Maeno was seated, his ankles were exposed, pants barely grazing over his calves. Maeno’s peculiar getup was one of the first things that Haru had indiscriminately noted about him. Haru’s tongue wets his lips, coating them with spit as he focuses on the exposed skin right in front of him. But no, he isn’t hungry. He feels empty in his entirety, yet…
Instead of desperately stuffing himself with the first person he sees, or the first “love” he experiences, he’s receded into a shell of the person he once was.
The Maeno who coaxed him out of that shell was a very, very calculated doctor. Unprofessional in nature, but inquisitive and determined despite that. Each step of his was carefully thought-out, even if he didn’t cycle through every single possible option in his head. Even if he didn’t consider the fact that Haru’s illness would progress further at the teasing prospect of “love” that Maeno had dangled right in front of his face. Taunting him, making him salivate and burn with desire.
When Haru had woken up on a stretcher, limbs bound and black fog tugging at the corners of his vision, Maeno was there. Haru hadn’t the faintest clue as to what happened, but his whole body was tense and rushing with adrenaline out of pure stress and instinct rather than memory. There’s blood splattered across his blue hoodie, and gathered thickly underneath his finger nails. When Haru runs his tongue over his teeth, he can taste the metallic tang of iron, and that sensation is familiar, because he’d never forget the flavor of blood. His gaze snaps up, and Maeno’s backed into a corner, being consoled by two other doctors in white coats.
They both have their hands on him, and Haru wants to snap up, wants to yell, wants to tug them off of Maeno, because that’s his doctor, and no one else should have their hands on him, he’s Haru’s, he’s Haru’s, he’s Haru’s!
The nylon bands of the stretcher dig into his skin, holding him back even as he tries to jerk out of their grasp, even as his fingers curl and scratch into the bedding. When one of the doctors moves their arm just a touch to the right, Haru’s face drops. A deep bite mark is embedded into Maeno’s skin, blood rushing to clot the wound, red staining the collar of his stretched-out white t-shirt and the folds of his lab coat. But, Maeno doesn’t have a hand pressed there to help the bleeding, because both of his arms are held back by either one of the doctors at his side, brows furrowed in frustration and tears building his eyes as he attempts to tug himself free.
Haru’s tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, the bittersweet taste of metal bursting across his tastebuds. Maeno’s lips are moving, and he must be saying something, but Haru’s hearing has fizzled out into sharp ringing. Wetness splashes across his cheeks, and his eyes are hot, sight going fuzzy and watery as he realizes he’s crying too. Even when he hurt Maeno, Maeno had been there.
When Haru awoke on the 5th level, yawning and rubbing at the soreness plaguing his limbs from being collapsed on the floor, Maeno had been there. Even though Maeno had been defensive and difficult and stubborn, ultimately, he was there. The jangling of metal between their wrists served as a constant reminder. When amnesia swirled his thoughts into a muddled, blank mess, Maeno had been there. Even before he knew who Maeno was, Maeno was right by his side. The firm, unyielding tug of chain links never allowed the two of them to stray very far from each other, and thinking about it now, that’s how Haru liked it.
Haru’s red string of fate was gray and cold, but it twined the two of them together anyway.
When Haru had escaped the facility, memories wiped clean and ZENO reduced to faint background static in the forefront of his brain, Maeno had been right at his side. Ragged and worn-out, but nonetheless, Maeno. The same Maeno who had tried so hard to save him, to fix him. The Maeno who actually succeeded.
And as the two of them shuffle boxes into a small, government-granted and surveillanced apartment, Haru can’t help but feel something inside of himself break. He should be happy. Unstoppable urges and ravenous violence no longer wash over him like a freight train, controlling his body and taking over his limbs. There are no black-out episodes in which he comes back to consciousness covered head to toe in blood. But he finds himself nervous. He finds anticipation gnawing at his stomach, making him so nauseous that he can barely stand to cook or even think about food.
He hates it. He hates change. A cure is what he’s wanted this whole time, yes, and he’s somewhat content that he’s received it. But…
In a few weeks time, Maeno will start working at another facility as a researcher, the same way he was before. Consulting patients, other doctors, and other scientists; talking to people other than Haru when Haru has had no one else besides Maeno by his side for his entire life. He nearly wants to cry out of frustration. He’s spent an eternity in Maeno’s shadow, chasing after him, his validation, and his love, so how exactly was Haru supposed to return to a normal life after everything he had gone through?
The thought of suddenly being without someone who’s broken him apart and held him together throughout his entire existence is nerve-wracking. It makes him paranoid. It puts him on edge. He doesn’t want to be left behind. Haru doesn’t want to be forgotten, he doesn’t want to become background noise to Maeno while he moves onto newer, better, bigger things outside of him.
And perhaps Haru wasn’t completely fixed, because something ugly and mean and selfish, something insatiable was still lurking within him. But it feels inevitable. It feels inevitable that Maeno will forget him, will forget their past, and everything they’ve gone through together. It feels inevitable that Haru will fade into the background of Maeno’s life as nothing but a side character, being forced to abandon their lifelong experiences together. After all, those experiences were nothing but short-lived in the grand scheme of things.
It strikes both fear and anger into him on a scale that he’s never experienced before. Haru hates it, he hates it, he hates it. He’s had no one besides Maeno his entire life and he doesn’t want to be tossed to the side while Maeno does whatever he wants with whoever he wants.
Haru isn’t even really sure how to handle this much emotion, let alone go about bringing it up in a conversation with Maeno, so there’s no point in trying to seek reassurance. Even if he were to bring it up, what is Maeno supposed to do about his feelings? Tiptoe around them, constantly walk a tightrope around Haru so as to not hurt him? He doesn’t want lies for comfort and he’s afraid of hearing the truth if it’s cruel, so he decides to bottle up his feelings until they’re forced out of him.
Haru really doubts that he’d be able to talk about it without projectile crying anyway, so he swallows the lump in his throat and stares at an unopened moving box resting on his table as tears well in his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble.
That evening, when Maeno comes home, the first thing he notices is that it’s almost eerily quiet. Silence felt hostile to Haru after spending so much time in the isolation ward, so he had grown an affinity for as much sound as he could possibly find after escaping the facility. A news channel on the television, the radio set to a random station, a white noise machine or the sound of crickets chirping— It didn’t really matter what it was, Tsugino just liked noise.
So when Maeno can hear his keys jangle and his feet shuffle on the ground as he walks into their shared house, everything immediately feels off. He strains his ears, but there’s no quiet murmur of newsmen talking or the rhythmic hum of music leaking from earbuds at max volume. He’s only met with ringing that makes his head ache the longer he focuses on it.
Warily, Maeno looks around before quietly placing his keys on the kitchen counter right next to the door. He slips off his shoes and explores around the house. His steps are ginger, like he doesn’t want to disturb the silence now that it’s here. None of the lights are on either.
…Interesting.
Maeno goes from room to room, peeking his head into each area. He walks around the entire perimeter of the kitchen, even going as far as to open random cupboards in search of Haru, although there’s probably no way his lanky form would be able to fit into any of them. Searching the bathroom, both of their toothbrushes are still there, so it’s not like Haru randomly decided to dip, moving out to leave Maeno all by his lonesome. He even checks behind the shower curtain and in the linen closet, but it’s quiet and empty.
Opening the dryer and washing machine, both of their clothes are still in there. He really needs to deal with that, but by the time he actually has the motivation to, Haru will probably have already gotten to it. Sighing, he adjusts the collar of his lab coat, the tail of it hitting his legs as he walks.
Next is his room, which Haru really had no business being in there, but Maeno checks anyway. Around his bookshelf, underneath his bed, in his bed, in his closet. Every time he checks a new location and Haru doesn’t tumble out from a (admittedly ridiculous) spot, he finds himself growing a little disappointed and restless.
Okay, Haru’s room is next down the line. This time it’s Maeno who has no business being in here, but he invites himself in anyway and tentatively begins looking around, repeating the same steps as each of the other rooms. Haru’s “room” had been a makeshift storage closet since they had first moved in, nearly packed to the brim with boxes on every surface imaginable. The bed, the table, across the floor, all over the bookshelves— It was hard to manage and even harder to navigate.
Maeno’s leg catches against one of the boxes and sends an empty one tumbling forward. He winces and mutters out a curse, quickly scrambling to set it upright the way it was before. As he’s putting it back on top of another box, he freezes with the cardboard in hand, back still bent.
There’s a lump in Haru’s bed. Maeno thinks he can see a few tufts of black hair sticking out, but he isn’t really quite sure, because he doesn’t have his glasses on. It could be the hair of a jacket, or whatever random stray animal Haru’s been inclined to take home next, just because it looked at him funny and started following him around. The last time Haru did that, he had gotten a mouthful from Maeno. Reminiscing on it, he finds himself smiling fondly. In the moment though, Maeno was truly pissed.
Maeno gently sits on the edge of the bed, placing his hands down on either side. He thinks he can see it breathing, but the curtains are drawn tightly shut, so he isn’t quite sure. Maeno leans a little bit closer, squinting.
“Tsugino?” Maeno whispers quietly. Although he’d feel a little guilty about waking Haru up, he places a hand on the sleeping form. It’s trembling beneath him, but definitely breathing. Well, if Haru has decided to take an afternoon nap, Maeno won’t bug him. It’s so rare for him to fall asleep this early. If he was resting, he probably needed it.
Soft breaths reach his ears, although they sound a little rushed. Maeno pets over what he thinks is Haru’s side, before groaning and rising to his feet. He wasn’t a chef nor anywhere close to an amateur cook, but he decides he’ll start dinner for the two of them just in case Haru wakes up hungry later.
As his fingers slip away from Haru’s bedsheets, hand grabbing for the doorknob to pull it shut, there’s a loud hiccup. Maeno nearly jumps out of his skin, face solemn but heart pounding against his chest. Frozen in place, he slowly turns his head back to the bed.
“T-Tsugino…?” He says slowly, voice barely a whisper. “What the fuck was that?”
There’s no response, but he can hear rapid, heavy breaths and the sound of muffled sniffling. It sounds… Wet. Snotty. Objectively gross, but he can’t have Haru getting sick. If Haru’s fallen ill, Maeno’s a doctor— He can take care of Haru, no problem.
Maeno heaves a sigh and brings a cold hand to his own forehead, rubbing back and forth in a stressed-out manner. He should’ve considered this from the very moment he got home.
Moving back closer to the edge of Haru’s bed, Maeno lays a tender hand on Haru’s shoulder. The concerned look on his face hardens when his touch is shrugged off. Haru avoids him and scoots closer to the wall.
“Tsugino, come on. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Despite having his other hand pushed away, he’s carding a hand through Haru’s thick, black hair. Chilly and nimble fingers wrap around his wrist and tug his arm away. Maeno’s brows furrow. Usually Haru was never adverse to touching.
A ragged croak comes from underneath the blanket. “Go away.”
But Maeno continues to fuss after him. “Tsugino, don’t be like that. What’s up with you?” He asks, leaning over Haru’s curled up form. There’s another wet sniffle, and Maeno’s stomach churns a little, pity tugging at his heartstrings.
“I…”
I hate you, Haru wants to say. But he bites his tongue, more tears welling in his eyes. Even if he were to say it, it wouldn’t be an honest statement. He hates the idea of Maeno leaving him, of Maeno abandoning him, of being forgotten, not Maeno himself. His emotions have always been nothing short of explosive, raw and all-consuming. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Haru had already accepted that ZENO was what became of his emotions once he could no longer control them: Random sporadic and violent outbursts.
When Haru turns over to face Maeno, the light creeping into his room from the kitchen illuminates the tears dripping down his cheeks. Maeno’s eyes go wide, hand frozen where Haru had pushed it away. He’s seen Haru emotional a select few times, but not once since he had been cured. Immediately, he’s all over Haru, affection nearly suffocating.
A flurry of questions is flying at Haru, and there’s hands across his entire body. Maeno’s knee dips forward and he’s crawling onto Haru’s bed in his day clothes, huddled closer. Fingers running through the back of his hair, a soft squeeze to his shoulder, a thumb rubbing over his knuckle— There’s more movement in a minute than he can process. Strings of “are you okay?” and “what’s wrong?” and “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what was happening” are all tossed at him, a new sentence starting before he can even respond to the most recent one Maeno has said.
“M-Maeno, stop…” Haru mumbles out, more bashful under the attention than overwhelmed. He tries to turn away, but Maeno’s pulling him right back in, uttering out sweet reassurance and words he thought he'd never hear come from his mouth in a million years, especially not towards Haru of all people.
Maeno wipes the wetness from his eyes, and places a hand on Haru’s knee, looking at him expectantly, like he’s pleading for cooperation. It’s the kind of look he knows Haru is weak to, and so Haru sighs, but his breath shakes and tears keep coming. As he’s showered in concern and care, he feels kind of silly for getting so worked up over something so stupid, and then he realizes it isn’t stupid, and each of Maeno’s touches only make his heart ache more.
“Don’t touch me.” Haru snaps, and his tone is so uncharacteristically harsh that Maeno freezes. Although he feels guilty, he isn’t going to back down without a fight. They’re both stubborn, but if Maeno never fought Haru back, nothing would ever be accomplished. “If I stop, will you tell me what’s wrong?”
There’s a beat of silence where Haru considers this offer, and he bites his tongue before agreeing begrudgingly. “Fine.” The hands on him slip away into Haru’s bedsheets, and he misses their warmth already.
But when it comes time for him to actually say what he’s thinking, he feels nearly sick. He tries to make up a lie on the spot, but he’s always been a bad liar. Floundering, his mouth opens and closes, but his mind can’t formulate any ideas besides the one that’s been bothering him the entire time.
“…You.”
Maeno squints. “What?”
“…I don’t want to share.”
Maeno tilts his head and stares at him incredulously like Haru’s lost his mind. “Well, that’s fine. I mean, I can go live with Fuyu if that’s better for you,” And Haru shoves the heels of his palms into his eyes and hiccups through sobs, because that is definitely not what he meant nor wants. “I didn’t realize that this was that big of an issue. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“No!” Haru blurts out, but it’s more choppy and hiccuped, like the word is clawing itself from his throat instead. Maeno sits back on his elbows in front of Haru, and closes his eyes, listening to his frantic breathing.
“So it has to do with me.”
“Y-Yes.”
“Does it have to do with me living here?”
“Well, kind of…”
“Do you want me to leave? Do you want to leave?”
“No! No! The opposite! The other way around!”
“You want… us to stay?” Maeno’s brows furrow as he says it, because a sentence like that makes no sense. Now they’re playing 21 questions on Haru’s bed, and Haru is growing frustrated.
“You.”
“Me. You want me to stay. But I’m not leaving?”
“You leave every day.” Haru mumbles through gritted teeth, obviously bitter.
And only now does Maeno catch on. “…Is this about my job?”
The silence that comes after is telling, and Haru can feel the burning on his cheeks spread up to his ears. He’s so embarrassed, he wants to die.
“I miss you.” He says quietly, fidgeting back and forth with the comforter in between his fingers. “I have a lot to say.”
Laying flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling, Maeno spreads his arms out on Haru’s bed. Their fingers brush, but neither of them move, so Maeno just lets them. Touching, idly. “Then say it. Get it off your chest. Like old times.”
The mere mention of the way things used to be has something ugly inside of him brimming to its breaking point. “Yeah. Old times. You mean, before you didn’t have an entire life outside of me.”
He’s so obviously jealous that it even makes Maeno laugh. The sound is so sincere, so straightforward that Haru feels both soothed and unsettled. Maeno’s either not taking him seriously in the slightest, or this idea of his is so silly that Maeno can’t help but laugh. “Is that what you think goes on at work?”
“I’m sure you’ve made plenty of friends. I’m sure you greet them, and say goodbye when you leave, and— and you make plans to hang out with them, or hug them, or treat all your patients the way you used to treat me, and feel that same desperation to cure everyone the way you did for me…!” The more Haru talks about it, the more worked up he feels. “I’m not really special to you, am I?”
Maeno reaches up towards his face and curls a lock of Haru’s hair around his index finger. Despite Haru’s wavering composure, Maeno doesn’t seem bothered by his behavior in the slightest. Has he always been so good at dealing with Haru’s feelings? “Of course you are. No one else was ever engraved into my life as deeply as you were. You’re jealous. Is that it?”
Haru’s eyes close and he leans into Maeno’s hand. “No…” he mumbles, but Maeno knows he isn’t being honest.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you behind for anyone. I didn’t leave you behind in that facility and I won’t leave you behind now.” His fears are soothed, but not dissipated.
“You cured me. You don’t need me anymore.”
“I like you, you know. I wasn’t just drawn to you because you were an exceptionally peculiar patient. I knew you had a ‘you’ in there. A real Tsugino, who wasn’t a shell of a person. This Tsugino. The Tsugino you are now. That’s why I wanted to help you. That’s why I like you now.”
“You could say that about any of your patients.”
“But I don’t. I’m not going to break ethics for just anyone.”
“I don’t trust you in the slightest.” And Maeno chuckles, because he knows Haru probably has a valid point. He’s been incredibly unprofessional since the start of his career, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to take as big of a risk as the one that got him into so much trouble in the first place. He simply has no desire to.
“Hey Tsugino,” Maeno starts, and Haru hums as a sign for him to continue talking. “Did you know you’re the only patient I’ve ever had who knows my first name?”
“No.”
“There you go. You’re getting more special by the minute, aren’t you?”
Haru huffs because he doesn’t completely believe Maeno. This entire conversation feels like a waste of time anyways, because he knows that his fears won’t be entirely snuffed out no matter how much Maeno tries to reassure him. And in the grand scheme of things, he’s just wasting Maeno’s time. He knew from the moment he started feeling this way that it would be impossible to accomplish anything from talking about his feelings.
Maeno sits up and places a hand on his shoulder. This time, Haru doesn’t shrug him off. He’s tense and stiff, but tolerant. When that touch nears closer to his neck, he jumps a little, but doesn’t move. Next, there’s hands on either side of his face, and Maeno’s staring at him so intently he feels a little shy. A gentle kiss is pressed to his lips for the first time, and Haru’s so shocked that his stomach does something funny, lurching forwards like he’s on a rollercoaster.
Color fills his cheeks with bright red. “W-What?”
“I love you.”
“Is this the kind of thing you do with all your friends…?”
“Hell no!”
“Well, kiss me again, then! To prove it!”
With his hands still on Haru’s cheeks, Maeno turns his head to the side to try and gain his composure. He hadn’t expected Haru to double down on it, and he can feel his ears growing warm. It was chaste and done on impulse, not something intended for repetition. The hesitation must be noticeable in his slow movements, though, because Haru’s beginning to frown.
“What, you can’t do it?”
“Shut up! Give me a second!” Maeno grits out, taking one hand off of Haru’s face to shield himself from Haru’s stare. The longer it takes him to gain his composure, the deeper Haru’s frown grows.
With a sudden, sharp inhale, Maeno keeps his eyes shut tightly as he slots his lips against Haru’s once more.
Haru makes a muffled noise into Maeno’s mouth, his heart racing with each movement of Maeno’s lips on his. One of his hands comes to rest atop Maeno’s shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist to tug Maeno closer. The stray ends of Maeno’s mussed-up braid tickle the side of his face, but he’s too focused on kissing to worry about that right now. A tongue nudges forward and licks over his lips, and Haru whimpers in surprise, jaw falling open to encourage Maeno further. Maeno must like that, because Haru can feel where the corners of his mouth are raised into a smile the next time their lips meet each other.
He worms his way on top of Haru, moving his hands from his cheeks to his neck, smoothing one out over his chest and using the other to card his fingers through Haru’s hair. A cold hand fidgets with the hem of Haru’s sweater and slips underneath it, sliding against his stomach gently. Butterflies ricochet through Haru’s stomach. He gasps and pulls away, drool dribbling down the side of his mouth. A messy strand of saliva breaks between the two of them as Haru brings up a hand to cover half of his flustered face.
Maeno wipes his mouth as well, but his lips are still moist with spit. Haru can’t stop staring.
“So, do you believe me now?”
Haru grabs Maeno’s wrist and guides it backwards so he can intertwine their fingers together.
“I don’t know. Just stay with me, please,” he says, because he can’t comprehend that any of this is real.